What if the Train Doesn't Make It
by Shootthemessanger
Summary: Jack Kelly just wants to end it. He was so close too. So close to leaving his life behind forever. But he failed, again, And now he's landed in the World Mental Institute and Boarding, a psych ward run by Joseph Pulitzer. Things aren't looking up for his future, and he's pretty sure that it's hopeless. Until he meets a group of guys who might change his mind. NEWSIES AU
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, ! I know you guys are probably wondering why I'm starting another story on top of** **All But One Got Away,** **well the answer to that is... I had an idea and I felt like writing it too. I figured that I could alternate days for updating, therefore keeping a steady stream of chapters for both stories. So, without further ado, here is** **What if the Train Doesn't Make It** **.**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or any of the characters. All rights go to Disney.**

 _He had been so close. All he had needed was a few more seconds._

 _A few more seconds for the bottle of Ativan to calmly float him away._

 _A few more seconds for his vision to go completely dark._

 _A few more seconds for his last breath to leave his quivering lips._

 _But he hadn't gotten those few seconds; because just as his breathing hitched and the dark spots started to spread across his vision, James had walked into his room. Somewhere in his dying mind, Jack kicked himself, he should've locked the door. His foster dad's eyes widened in panic as he took in Jack twitching on the floor, eyes clouded over, the brand new Ativan bottle lying empty beside him, cap tossed away and contents gone. The older man fumbled for his phone, frantically hitting 9-1-1 while running over to Jack. James held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, gently slapping the sides of Jack's face, trying to elicit a reaction._

 _"Jack! Jack, can you hear me? Stay with me. Why the hell Jack?! WHY" The words sounded garbled and far away in Jack's mind as he stared straight ahead, begging for the pain-killers to work faster and just end it all. His vision faded to black as his blurry vision registered four men charging through the doorway, a stretcher between them._

Jack opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again, the harsh, bright lights proving too much for his eyes. His chest slowly rose and fell. Jack groaned. He'd failed. Again. No matter how hard he tried, something always got in the way of his attempts to end his life. And each time, his foster parents practically threw him back to the system. No one wanted a kid this messed up. Jack wondered if James had already given him back and the next person to walk through that door would be child services, ready to take him back to the lodging house.

He tried opening his eyes again, slower this time, flinching at the light. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his skull pounding. He felt nauseous. They'd pumped his stomach. They'd done it before, the first two times he'd attempted with pills, sticking a tube down his throat and sucking out his most recent effort to leave the world for good.

Jack surveyed the white room around him, taking in the two windows with the blinds closed, the cushy chairs beside his bed, meant for when the patient actually had a family who cared. He caught sight of his red suitcase resting against the wall. He'd been right; James had thrown him back too, Jack didn't blame him like he said, no one wanted a kid this messed up. He was still staring at the suitcase when a man in a white coat walked in, the doctor.

"Ah Mr. Kelly, it's good to see you awake," Jack grunted in response, hoping the doctor would catch the difference in opinion.

"I'm doctor Anderson. I've been in charge of your ...ah...treatment here." Jack remained silent. Dr. Anderson adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat before looking down at the clipboard in his hand,

"Listen, Mr. Kelly...Jack, it says here on your file that this is the 8th time that you've attempted something like this, and the third time you've used medication." The doctor said gently.

"Yeah and the 8th foster family that gave me back but hey who's counting," Jack replied dryly, gesturing to the suitcase against the wall, "So, I'm guessing it's back to the lodging house, where I'll stay until another family takes me. Then, it's only a matter of time until they discover just how screwed up I really am and hand me back. Then we repeat. Correct?" Dr. Anderson adjusted his glasses again awkwardly, before sighing and looking back up at Jack,

"Actually, I'm afraid not. I spoke with the director of the lodging house and we've both agreed that what is best for you is somewhere where there'll be people to watch over you. Somewhere more...secure, for lack of better word." Jack's shoulders dropped,

"You're locking me up. You're locking me up like some crazy person!" Dr. Anderson cringed slightly,

"...No, we're sending you to a psychiatric ward. It's what's best for you! There will be supervision, therapy, and other kids just like you." Jack laughed and swung his feet around the side of the bed, sliding off. He pulled out the I.V in his hand, ignoring Dr. Anderson's protests. He walked over to his suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, despite it being the beginning of May. As Jack changed, Dr. Anderson continued to talk,

"We were informed that all your belongings are already with you so you'll be going straight to the facility. It's called World Mental Institute and Boarding, and it's run by a Mr. Joseph Pulitzer. A car will be here in about 30 minutes to pick you up, as your release forms were already signed." Dr. Anderson looked back up at Jack, who, after changing, was now slumped in one of the chairs, looking at him with a blank yet defeated expression. Jack tossed his hands in the air,

"Whatever." Dr. Anderson sighed, knowing there was nothing more he could do, and he left the room, leaving Jack alone to wait.

 _1 Hour Later_

Jack was once again slumped in a chair, this time it being one of the waiting room chairs in the Psych ward, suitcase next to him, waiting to be called. He rolled up his left sleeve and ran his fingers along the scars that he knew ran all the way up his arms and beyond, fingers tracing the smooth, elevated tissue that 3 out of 8 attempts as well as the constant need to feel something left him with. He quickly rolled his sleeve back down when he heard the sound of multiple locks clicking and the double doors to his left opened, revealing a young, red-haired nurse, her hair pulled back by a bow. Jack sat up, looking at her plainly,

"Hello Mr. Kelly my name is Katherine Plumber and I'm one of the nurses here at the World. Would you like to follow me to your room and I'll give you a brief tour of the building." She said cheerfully. Jack stood, grabbing his suitcase,

"I don't really got a choice now do I?" He replied sarcastically before moving past her,

"And it's Jack, by the way." He said over his shoulder before starting down the hallway. Katherine jogged to catch up to him before slowing to a walking pace, staying a few feet in front of him. They walked down a long hallway that branched off in different directions.

"Down there is our recreation room. It's where most of the other patients go to hang out.' Katherine gestured to where the hallway branched off and voices could be heard talking and laughing.

"Straight forward at the very end is the dining hall, and you'll be expected to attend every meal, three times a day, seven days a week. the therapists' rooms are scattered all around, but you'll be escorted to those sessions so you don't need to worry. And here we are," Katherine stopped at a cluster of doors. They looked like bedroom doors, with names written in dry erase marker on a mini whiteboard on the doors. Katherine walked up to one that only had one name written on it and took out a dry erase marker, writing "Jack Kelly" underneath the first name before opening the door. Jack walked in the surprisingly spacious room, noticing that one of the beds was obviously claimed by the other boy who's name was written on the door. Jack made his way to the unclaimed bed, laying his suitcase at the foot of the bed. He turned back toward Katherine, jamming his hands in his pockets to show that he was done.

"You don't want to unpack? You probably want to make yourself at home." Katherine suggested slowly. Jack shrugged,

"All I got is clothes. Sorry to disappoint. And listen, Ms. Plumber, I appreciate the sympathy but I don't need to be here, so if you could just take me back to the front, I'll call Kloppman to come pick me up. " He replied. Katherine sighed,

"Well you see Jack, I've read your file. 8 suicide attempts? Mr. Kelly, it is good that you are here because we're trying to help you and unless you can get a legal guardian to sign you out, you aren't going anywhere soon." Katherine put her hands on her hips, knowing as well as Jack did that Kloppman wasn't going to sign him out. Jack sighed, defeated.

Katherine perked up like she had remembered something suddenly, and she held out her hand expectantly. Jack just stared at it, confused.

"I need your shoelaces, belt, hoodie strings, and anything sharp that you may have brought with you. It's standard procedure and I can't have you trying to add a 9th attempt to your chart." Jack pressed his lips together tightly before reluctantly handing over his belt, laces, hoodie strings from his sweatshirt, and a safety pin from his pocket. Katherine took them with a small "thank you" before turning to leave.

"Come on Mr. Kelly, let's go see if we can find one of the guys to show you the rest of the way around." Jack sighed but followed her anyway, shutting the door behind him. They walked down the hallway again, this time turning at random times when it branched off. They continued for what seemed like forever before Jack saw a blond boy walking toward them. Jack noticed that the boy's walk was unbalanced and shaky, before discovering as he got closer, that the boy was relying heavily on the support of a crutch tucked under his right arm. He stopped in front of them, a smile on his face.

"Heya ms. Katherine! It sure is great to see you." He said cheerfully. Katherine smiled back at him,

"Well hello there Mr. Morris, it's great to see you too." Jack shifted his weight back and forth awkwardly. The boy turned toward him, the back toward Katherine,

"Who's this?" He asked, that smile still on his face. _What's got this kid so happy_? Jack wondered incredulously.

"This is Jack Kelly. He just arrived today." The boy turned to Jack and stuck out his left hand,

"Crutchie Morris. It's real nice to meet you, Jack!" Jack sheepishly shook Crutchie's hand, sticking his hand back into his pockets afterward. Katherine looked at Crutchie,

"Hey, can you do me a favor? I need someone to take Jack down to the Rec Room, maybe introduce him to some of the others. Could you do that?" She asked. Crutchie nodded happily,

"Of course I'd be happy to introduce him to some of the fellas! I'm sure they'll be happy to see a new face!" He replied. Katherine smiled and thanked him before hurrying away, leaving the two boys in the hall.

Crutchie began to limp down the hallway in the opposite direction,

"Come one! Rec Room's this way" He laughed. Jack nodded and began to walk alongside him silently, observing the boy. Crutchie was wearing a pair of sweatpants with an extremely baggy t-shirt. In fact, it looked like it was at least three sizes too large. Aside from that, a grey beanie covered part of his dirty blond hair, and he still had that grin on his face. Jack wondered what he was there for, but knew it would be rude to ask. As they walked, Crutchie talked about the other guys in the hospital.

"They's a little rough around the edges but trust me, they's all great fellas." He reassured Jack, who tugged at his sleeves out of habit, in a way making sure that his scars wouldn't show. They stopped at a pair of double doors that were already open, and Crutchie led Jack inside. Jack looked around the Rec Room, taking in the big room. He saw couches spread out around the room and a coffee table that was hosting a card game. One of the guys playing cards, a boy with auburn hair, looked up from his hand,

"Hey, Crutchie you're back! Who's the kid you got witchya?" He asked. Crutchie adjusted his crutch, steadying himself,

"This here's Jack! Ms Plumber says he just got here today." Crutchie announced, drawing the attention of the other guys in the room. The boy with auburn hair stood up and walked over, extending his hand,

"The name's Racetrack. Race for short. Welcome to the family Jack." Jack shook his hand, relieved that it was going pretty well.

'So," Race began, leaning against the wall nonchalantly, "whatcha in for?" he asked Jack. The other guys in the room all quieted down, interested to see what would happen. Jack impulsively tugged at his sleeves,

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not say. But just know I don't plan on bein here long" He replied, trying to brush it off. Race smirked,

"Oh sure, you don't. But you _will_ be here for a while; that's what this place is. It's for the kids who need a bit longer than the average crazie, the real messed up ones" He winked. A boy with dark brown hair who had been reading on one of the couches put down his book,

"Be nice Race. The kid's new, and I bet he didn't sign up for this, so don't make it worse." He scolded before nodding politely at Jack, "I'm Davey"

Jack nodded back in greeting. The other boys went around the room introducing themselves. There was a blond boy with glasses called specs, two twins called Mush and Sniper, a younger boy, around thirteen, who's name was Romeo, as well as several others by the names of Finch, Kid Blink, and Albert, Henry, and Elmer. Jack was running through all the names in his head when a chime sounded over the intercom. All the boys stood up and Crutchie turned to Jack,

"That's lunch." He began to limp toward to doorway, "You comin'?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, guys, I'm back with another chapter! woohoo! I know this is a sort of common prompt but I hope you guys are enjoying my take on it.**

 **I got a comment from someone that mentioned Jack's 8 attempts might be a little much. However, I just wanted to clear things up, Jack has tried to kill himself 8 times, which I did to really get the point that he isn't quitting after one, two, or even three failed attempts. I wanted to really show how much he wants to die, and the 8 attempts I feel, shows that he really has tried everything, some things more than once, which landed him in the mental hospital.**

 **Now, Here is chapter 2! Enjoy!**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or its characters. All rights go to Disney**

Jack followed Crutchie down the hallway toward the dining hall for lunch. The others had gone ahead, walking at a quicker pace than Crutchie could manage. At first, Jack had been mad at them for leaving Crutchie, but Crutchie reassured him that it was alright, they just wanted to get to the table so they could save seats for everyone. Plus, he said, he had to make a quick stop before lunch. Jack nodded, and followed beside him, making sure to keep the same pace. Crutchie glanced at the new kid walking next to him; he seemed to always keep his hands buried in his pockets. Crutchie took another glance at him, studying his appearance. Jack wore a black sweatshirt and jeans, which Crutchie found a little odd because it was the beginning of May. He figured it might be rude to ask though, especially because he'd just met him.

They reached the rooms and Crutchie stopped at his room, which he shared with Blink. Jack pointed to the door across the hall,

"You know who's room that one is?" He asked. Crutchie nodded,

"That one's Davey's. You rooming with him now?" Jack confirmed quickly before gesturing to the door in front of them,

"This one yours?" Crutchie readjusted his right hand on the handle of his crutch before reaching out his left hand and turned the knob, pushing the door open.

"Mine and Blink's. He's my roommate." He said, walking in.

"Come on in. I just have something I need to do real quick before we go to lunch." Crutchie said, opening one of the drawers and digging through it, finally pulling out his scale. Jack came up behind him, sitting down on the bed,

"What's that?" He asked, leaning forward, trying to put a name on the metal object in Crutchie's hands. Crutchie didn't answer, placing the scale on the ground, turning it on and waiting for it to calibrate. Jack looked down at it for a moment before looking back up at Crutchie, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you need a scale for?" Crutchie shrugged, trying to look casual,

"I like to make sure that I'm not gaining any weight. In fact, I'm trying to lose weight. I feel that it's for my benefit, as I've been looking a bit...larger... than normal lately." He explained, stepping on the scale. It was perfectly logical, he weighed himself before every meal. Jack looked him up and down, slightly taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, averted his eyes. The scale beeped, breaking the silence and Crutchie looked down at the blue screen. _130._ Crutchie sighed, frowning slightly. He made a mental note about dropping those 30 pounds as he stepped off the scale, turning it off and burying it back in the drawer. He turned back toward Jack, grinning cheerfully,

"Ready?" Jack stood up, smirking back at him,

"You bet. Shall we?" He playfully offered his arm to Crutchie. For a split second, Crutchie was startled by the normally brooding boy's joking gesture, but he quickly recovered, sliding his left arm under Jack's, smile still on his face. They laughed and left the room, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind them.

The two boys entered the dining hall a few minutes later and Crutchie led Jack over the boys' usual table, in the back corner. None of the guys had gotten their food yet; they always waited for everyone to get to the table first. No one knew why they did it, it was just a thing they did. Race stood up as the two approached the table,

"'Is about time you two arrived!"He threw his hands in the air in mock exasperation. Crutchie laughed,

"You know I always gotta check before meals." Race nodded in understanding before looking at the rest of the guys,

"Alright boys, everyone's here. You can go get your food now." One by one the boys pushed their chairs out, standing up to get in line for lunch. Jack pulled out a chair for Crutchie, who blushed and thanked him before sitting down, realizing how tired he was.

"I'll pick you up something alright?" Jack offered, turning to head toward the line. Crutchie tried to tell him not to bother, but he was already gone. Crutchie sighed, slouching in the plastic chair, dropping his crutch on the ground beside him. Race looked at him from across the table, arms lying folded on top of the table. He always waited until all the other guys had gotten their food before he went and got his own.

"You's gotta eat at least a little." He suggested slowly. Crutchie shook his head, looking down at his stomach,

"Nah. I'm fine. And according to the scale, I still have _at least_ 30 pounds to drop. I don't need food, I'm fine" he reassured Race, who raised his eyebrows but sighed and nodded,

"Alright, if you's sure." He said, defeated. One by one, the others arrived back at the table, setting down their trays. Jack and Davey were the last to return. Davey sat on the other side of the table, setting down his tray before taking out a small cloth and wiping down the plastic cutlery lined up perfectly on his folded napkin. Henry laughed,

"Uh Dave, you know that's _plastic_ silverware, right? As in, disposable?" Davey looked up at him for a moment before returning to the cleaning of his fork,

"So? They're all together in the same container! If even one of them has bacteria on it, the rest of them could become practically unusable!" He huffed. Henry chuckled again before digging into his own food. Jack sat down next to Crutchie, sliding a tray in front of him.

"Here ya go. I wasn't sure what you liked so I figured a salad would work." Crutchie looked at the food on the tray, and he could feel all the boys' eyes on him.

"Uh, thanks, Jack. That's real nice of ya but I'm not really hungry right now." He said, putting his hands in his lap. Jack looked at him incredulously,

"Kid you gotta eat-" Jack was cut off by Race slamming his hand on the table,

"Kelly, I think it's time you shut your mouth. If Crutchie here don't wanna eat then you be quiet and leave 'im be" He said forcefully, eyes daring Jack to keep talking. Jack's eyes widened and he looked back at Crutchie, who averted his eyes as he saw the realization flash in Jack's eyes. He could still feel Jack's eyes on him, knowing that he had figured out why Crutchie was there in the ward. The boys sat in silence, chewing awkwardly as Jack sat there stunned, Race still fuming, and Crutchie wishing he could disappear. Thankfully, Romeo broke the tension, absentmindedly raking his nails up and down his arm,

"Hey, Race where's Spot? Haven't seen him in a few days." He inquired. Crutchie leaned over to Jack,

"Spot's Race's boyfriend. He got landed in here because of a pretty bad drug addiction. It ain't good, let me tell you." he whispered. Jack nodded gratefully. Race reached his hand over and moved Romeo's hand away from his arm, but it kept moving up and down like he was still scratching at his skin.

"He's having another really bad withdrawal. They had to lock him in solitary for a few days so he wouldn't hurt anyone." Race explained, keeping his hand between Romeo's hand and his arm. Romeo nodded, not even acknowleding Race's hand. The others nodded as well before breaking into their own conversations. Albert, Mush, and Sniper were having a heated discussion about public schooling, with Mush and Sniper finishing each other's sentences, which appeared to be confusing Albert. Specs and Romeo were talking in low voices, this time Specs being the one to keep Romeo from scratching up his arm. Race leaned over to Jack and Crutchie.

"So, Jack, where were you before you got landed in this joint?" Race asked curiously, leaning on his elbows. Jack hesitated slightly like he was picking and choosing certain details to leave out.

"Foster Family. James and Amy." He said finally, stretching out in the chair. Race nodded,

"Gotcha gotcha. They the ones who out ya here?" He asked. Jack shook his head this time, taking his hands out of his pockets and picking at his thumbnail,

"Nah, they tossed me back to the system as fast as they could when they found out how messed up I am. It was the director of the lodging house, Mr. Kloppman's idea to send me here." Race thought for a moment before looking at Jack,

"And just how messed up ARE you, Jack Kelly?" he inquired, eyebrows raised. Jack smirked and shoved his hands back into his pockets, before standing up,

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said, stretching. The others looked up,

"It time to go yet?" Elmer asked, confused.

"No nitwit! The bell ain't rung yet" Blink said, lightly smacking him on the back of the head.

" Hey!" Elmer began to object but was interrupted by another soft chime from the intercoms. Crutchie grabbed his crutch and slowly stood up, turning to Jack,

"That means it's rest time. 'Is required." He told him. "I got somewhere I gotta be though, so do you mind walking with Davey back to you guys' room?" Jack nodded,

"Sure thing. See ya 'round Crutchie" He said, turning to walk alongside Davey. Crutchie smiled to himself, Jack Kelly was definitely not the average patient here, but something about how he acted all tough around the guys was amusing in a cute way. Crutchie slowly limped out of the Dining hall; he had an appointment with his therapist today, and he didn't want to be late. He turned down another hallway and collided with a big, bulky figure, knocking himself to the ground. He pushed himself into a sitting position, looking up at who he'd collided with. Oscar and Morris Delancey loomed over him, grinning wickedly. Crutchie gulped,

"H-heeeeeeyyyyyyyy fellaaaaasssssssss"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys, I'm back with another chapter and I hope that everyone is excited! So, warning you in advance, this chapter is super duper long and this is my** ** _second_** **time writing it because my site crashed... therefore, I will not take too long talking before we get started. Please don't forget to leave reviews because it will help me make my story better! That's pretty much it so let's get on with the chapter, shall we?**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or anything about it. All rights go to Disney**

Jack followed Davey back to their room, quietly surveying in the brown-haired boy. Everything about Davey seemed to be perfect, maybe almost an obsessive kind of perfect; his was wearing a regular pair of blue jeans with a gray button up shirt, the collar folded expertly. They reached their room and Jack watched as Davey took out another cloth, this one a slightly different color than the one he had used on the utensils at lunch, and carefully laid it over the doorknob before turning it. He pushed the door open and Jack strode in, making his way over to his bed.

"So, Dave, how'd a guy like you end up in a place like this? If it's okay for me to ask" he said as he flopped over onto the mattress. He hoped he wasn't offending Davey by asking. Davey pushed the door closed, before taking off the cloth off of the handle and tossing it on the dresser. He looked like he was going to sit down on his bed, but instead, he walked back over to the dresser and quickly folded the cloth.

"Severe OCD and anxiety" he replied, stretching out on top of his bed, one leg popped up and one laying straight. Jack raised his eyebrows, confused,

"Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? I knew a bunch of guys with that, none of them ever got put into a place like this," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. Davey glanced over at him,

"Well, I bet those guys never poisoned themselves with a bottle of all-purpose cleaner." Jack wasn't sure he had heard right,

"What?" Davey laughed quietly, before looking over at Jack,

"Settle in kids, it's story time." Jack laughed before sitting up fully on his bed, back resting on the wall. He put his hands into his pockets and let Davey begin,

"It started when I was pretty little, I had these little habits, things that I had to do in order to get through the day. I'd refuse to walk on grass, I wore gloves, etcetera. These things that I did though, were like solutions to problems for me though. Because for some reason, I'd get these weird constant fears, like falling a sinkhole if I stepped on grass, or something bad happening if I got a cut on my hand. However, they were easy to combat; if I did certain things, I could make it through the day without anything bad happening. My parents decided to get me tested when they found me organizing my bookshelf. They had asked what I was doing, and I told them that I was making sure the house wouldn't burn down. They thought I was crazy, so I got tested and diagnosed with OCD as well as anxiety because I'd start panicking if I forgot to do something. After we found out what I had, my mom and dad were a little bit more relaxed around me, instead of always looking at me weirdly and whispering to each other whenever I had to do something like wash my hands for exactly 1 minute and 30 seconds, or have all my shirts ironed a day before I planned on wearing them. My little brother was the one who always acted normal around me, he would even ask to watch me reorganize my room. So, it went on like that for a while, fears easily manageable if I had an action to counter it. Except for one day, when I was about 11, I was at an art festival with my family, and there was this man standing next to us, smoking. I remember seeing the little puffs of smoke coming out of his mouth, and I started to panic. I was sure that I was going to die if I inhaled any of the smoke, so I held my breath. And I'm pretty sure he saw me holding my breath but he didn't move. So, I just kept holding my breath, and I remember my mom looking at me, she looked scared. Suddenly, her face kind of turned sideways and everything went black. I woke up later on that day in the hospital and the doctor told me that I'd passed out from holding my breath for so long. He asked me why I'd been holding it in the first place, so I told him about the smoking man and how my chest had gotten tight when I saw the smoke and how I had panicked. He told my parents it was a panic attack triggered by my OCD and suggested starting therapy for it. I didn't have to stay in the hospital overnight or anything, I was allowed to check out once the doctor had recommended a therapist. So, I started going to see him twice a week; Let me tell you, he was totally _useless_ ," Jack laughed at that comment, and Davey looked over and smiled, "All he did was try and make me do stuff like leave one button of my shirt open or open the door without gloves and such. It was awful; But, my parents kept making me go to him. If you ask me, it made my OCD worse, and everything just continued on as it had before. Then, one day about six months ago, I was eating breakfast by myself on the counter. And I looked down at my bowl, and I felt that tugging at my chest again, like the day that man was smoking. I looked down at the bowl and I couldn't stop thinking that I'd die if I ate any more of it, it was just so unclean. Looking back, it was a stupid decision, but I remember practically running to the cabinet where we kept our cleaning supplies and grabbing the bottle of all-purpose cleaner. At the time, 'all-purpose' was enough, I just needed something to clean my food with. Something that wasn't just soap and water. I ran back to the counter and sprayed a bunch of it all over my food; seeing it seemed to calm me down, so I walked back over and put the bottle away, then I walked back over the counter and kept on eating. It seemed fine, I only felt nauseous a little, but I thought it was because of the panic attack. I didn't start feeling really bad until later on that day when I was laying on the couch with my little brother, watching tv. It happened gradually, starting as a slight tug at my chest, but soon enough, I couldn't breathe. At first, I thought it was a panic attack, but there was nothing around to trigger it, so I knew something was really wrong. I tried to stand up, I had to get out of the room before I scared my brother, but my whole body was shaking so much, I could barely stand up at all. I could hear my brother calling my name, but he sounded so far away for some reason. Suddenly, I couldn't tell which way was up or down, right, left, or forward. Everything was blurry and spinning but I tried to take a step, and that was it. Everything turned sideways. I didn't everything went black before I even hit the ground. I woke up in the hospital the next day with a cannula in my nose. My head felt terrible and my throat burned," Jack gave him a sympathetic look, he knew how that felt, "A nurse walked by my room and saw that I was awake, and he called another doctor in. She walked in and my mom and dad were with her; mom had been crying I could tell, and I couldn't look her in the eyes. I didn't even know what had happened. My parents sat down in those chairs that they keep beside the beds while the doctor read over my chart on her clipboard. She told us that something I had ingested had caused moderate and severe symptoms of poisoning, which lead to me passing out. She asked me if I had eaten anything in the last 48 hours that could've caused the poisoning, so, I told her about my panic attack and the all-purpose cleaner. I could see my parents out of the corner of my eye; man, they looked so disappointed, and I'm not sure whether of not it was in me or themselves. The doctor then took my parents outside, and I watched them talk; the doctor pointed at her clipboard a few times and handed my parents a brochure, gesturing with her hand. I watched my mom and dad flip through the brochure before looking at each other and whispering for a bit. After they finished whispering, they turned back towards the doctor and my dad nodded. The nurse smiled warmly and pulled out a small tablet, tapping a few buttons before replacing it back in her pocket. All three of them walked back into my room, and the doctor explained that she recommended a more _specialized_ hospital for me to stay at, this place. She said that my parents had agreed and she had put me down to be checked in later on that day. My parents wouldn't look me in the eye, they just excused themselves to go get my stuff from the house. They wouldn't even let me go and pack my own things, I had to stay at the hospital until it was time to go. Then later on that day, I checked in here, and I've been here ever since."

Jack stared at Davey, who was staring at the ceiling. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just sat there twisting a loose thread on the inside of his pocket. Davey broke the silence, turning himself until he was facing Jack,

"What about _you_ Jack? What did _you_ do to get locked up here?" Jack looked down at his hands, pulling his hands out of his pockets and tugging at his sleeves,

"I'm sorry. I don't really like to talk about it. I know, you just told me your story and so I kinda owe you mine I just, don't like to talk about it a lot." he said quietly. When Davey didn't respond, Jack looked up, expecting to find Davey mad at him but instead, he was met with a sympathetic smile,

"I ain't mad, If that's what you think," Davey said.

"Really?" Jack asked quietly. Davey nodded,

"Look, Jack, I told you about myself because I'm comfortable telling you, and if you ain't comfortable tellin' me yet then you don't gotta tell me." Jack gave him a grateful smile and Davey smiled back.

"Anything else you wanna hear about?" Davey asked, trying to break the tension. Jack thought for a moment,

"Can you tell me how to other fellas ended up in here? If not it's perfectly fine, just wanted to know if it was possible..." He fumbled with his words, talking fast. Davey considered his request for a moment before making a decision,

"Yeah sure," he said. "Who do you want to start with?" Jack thought back to the boy at lunch, Romeo he thought, who had been trying to scratch up his arms.

"What about the young kid, Romeo?" Davey nodded, letting Jack know he'd gotten the name right before starting. Romeo's probably the youngest one here, he just turned thirteen a few weeks ago. He arrived here a few days after I did. That poor kid had gone through a lot, didn't speak or anything for about a week. When he was 12, his dad had an affair and left his mom and him a few weeks after. He wasn't kind about it either, he told her that it was her fault for not trying hard enough or some crap like that; He brought the other girl over when he packed, just so Romeo and his mom could see the new woman in his life. Then he just...left. Romeo's mom took it real hard and then one day when Romeo was calling for his mom, he went to check the bathroom to see if she was in there. He knocked a few times but got no response, so he opened the door, and she was dead." Jack's eyes widened in shock as Davey continued. "She was laying in the bathtub, her wrists and arms all slashed up. His scream must've been heard by the other tenants in the complex, and the police were called. When they got there, they took one look and knew there was no saving her. She was dead. They tried to talk to Romeo, but he'd stopped responding to anyone or anything, he just sat there, running his hands up and down his arms. They took him to a hospital where he stayed in the temporary psych ward, but he still wouldn't acknowledge anyone, so they decided a place like this would be better suited for him. I remember the day they brought him in; one of the nurses wheeled him in with a wheelchair, she said he wouldn't walk. We all tried to say hi, but he just sat there in the chair, scratching at his arms. Specs kind of watched over him when he got here. He pushed Romeo's chair around and helped them bandage his arms when they got all scratched up. It wasn't until about a week later that he finally acknowledged anyone; he had his knees to his chest, he hadn't moved since he got there, except his hands, which just kept on scratching at his arms. We were in the rec room, Specs had put his chair next to one of the couches, and suddenly he just slowly lifted his head and looked around the room, his eyes slightly lost. Race was the first to notice, and he kind of hurried over to the chair, crouching in front of it. 'Are you with us kid? Romeo, that's your name right?' he asked. At first Romeo jut kind of stared at him, and we thought maybe we'd been imagining it, but then he nodded. It was a small, and kind of shaky nod, but it was a nod. All the guys were really relieved, we were scared that he'd never say anything. Specs went and got a nurse, who came to get Romeo because they had to assign him to a roommate and get him settled. They ended up putting him with Specs; he hasn't become unresponsive since then, but he still scratches at his arms, and everyone can hear him screaming in his sleep occasionally, though no one says anything." Jack listened as Davey finished, eyes wide. The kid just turned 13, he was so young. He swallowed,

"And Specs?" He asked hesitantly. Davey nodded, "Specs has schizophrenia. He hears voices and sees things that aren't there, stuff like that. He talks really fast, and sometimes we can't tell what he's saying. Sometimes he does things over and over, except he doesn't realize that he's doing it. He gets nightmares too, we can hear him screaming on those nights. Romeo is always able to calm him down though. They're practically inseparable" Jack smiled, picturing Specs and Romeo laughing together at lunch, the older boy's arm around Romeo.

Jack put his hands back into his pockets and listened as Davey went over each boy's condition: Blink had Tourette's, the twins both had DID*, Finch had night terrors so bad that he couldn't differentiate reality from nightmare, Henry's parents were both abusive, Albert had Intermittent Explosive Disorder**, Elmer had Hypergraphia*** combined with mild depression, and had been admitted after carving words on his skin.

"Race has Bipolar disorder. Spot's the only one who can calm him down when he's having one of his worse days. Crutchie told you about Spot?" Davey assumed, raising his eyebrows for clarification. Jack nodded,

"Drug addiction right? Crutchie told me it was pretty bad" Davey nodded solemnly,

"He was checked in after he was on the subway one day and something happened. He started havin' a seizure of some sort and he passed out. The doctors found out that his addiction had gotten so bad that it had caused epilepsy, and the seizures would keep coming until eventually, his heart stopped. So, they signed him in here to try and help him get over it. They say he's stuck with epilepsy though. The least they can do is reduce the frequency of his seizures."

Jack hesitated for a moment before looking up at Davey,

"And Crutchie?" He asked quietly. Davey sighed,

"I guess you figured it out huh?" Jack swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding,

"Anorexia isn't it?" Davey's shoulders dropped, and he nodded,

"His is the hardest on everyone I think. The nurses try as hard as they can; they've got him on a strict meal plan, Kathrine checks up on his every hour. If he walks too much they make him use a wheelchair so he doesn't burn off too many calories, heck, he's not even allowed to shower or use the restroom alone. There's always a staff member there to make sure he isn't throwing up or anything. Somehow though, he refuses. Sure, he has a meal plan but he doesn't even go up to the counter to get it. And that kid smiles no matter what, he seems to thrive off of positivity alone. I hear the nurses whispering though, he's collapsed multiple times in the past month, they're afraid of organ failure." Jack's eyes widen in shock,

"So why does no one make him eat?" He cried, suddenly needing Crutchie to be ok. Davey averted his eyes, maybe in shame,"

"Everyone tries, everyone tries to get him to eat, but he refuses. If you force him, it gets even worse, and he won't even drink water for as long as he can go. So no one forces him. We're all afraid of him going too far." Jack listened in shock. It just didn't fit that that sunshiny boy with the ever-present smile could be doing something like that to himself. Jack jumped slightly when a chime buzzed through the intercom. Davey slid off his bed, straightening his shirt carefully,

"That would mean it's time for the afternoon circle." Jack cocked his head slightly in confusion. Davey laughed,

"It's like group therapy basically," He said, putting his cloth back over the doorknob and pulling the door open,

"C'mon." Jack slowly stood up from his bed, not bothering to put back on his shoes. As he followed Davey out of the room, he made a promise to himself: He would get Crutchie to eat. If it was the last thing he did.

 ***: Dissociative Identity Disorder- aka "Multiple Personality Disorder". It's characterized by the presence of two or more personalities. Usually brought on by traumatic events ( )**

 ****: Intermittent Explosive disorder- Outbursts of anger and sometimes violence that do not always fit the situation or require provocation. (commonly described as anger management disorder) ( )**

 *****: Hypergraphia- Compulsive writing. ( )**


	4. Chapter 4

**Y'all I am so sorry it has been way to long. Please leave reviews so that I can make this story better. Give me constructive criticism, suggestions, or even request a scene that you'd like to see happen. Thanks and enjoy!**

 **-Hayd**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Newsies or its characters. All right go to Disney**

Jack and Davey walked together down the halls toward the rec room, which was where Davey said group circle was. Jack tried to memorize the turns as they went, attempting to remember the different hallways. After going back and forth in his head about whether the 6th turn had been a right or a left for about 3 minutes, which resulted in him missing the next 2 turns, he gave up. Instead, Jack buried his hands in his pockets and resorted to counting the colored tiles as they passed on the floor. He could tell when they were nearing the rec room when they heard loud and excited voices from around the corner. Davey put a hand to his ear and pushed open the doors. He rolled his eyes at the rowdy boys inside,

"Geez guys, could you be any louder? Japan is having trouble hearing you." Jack laughed, turning to look at a grinning Race,

"But seriously Race, what's goin' on? It better be good seeing as you're smiling like that" he remarked. Race's grin grew and he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet,

"Guess what?! They'se letting Spot outta Solitary! He's gonna be at group circle!" Jack smiled,

"That's great!" Even though he'd never met Spot before, Jack could tell how happy having him around made Race, so he shared in the excitement. Several minutes later, a middle aged woman walked in. She was about average height, with short, curly, brown hair and a face full of makeup. She was wearing a long grey skirt with a pink sweater and a string of pearls. If it hadn't been for her ID badge clipped onto her sweater pocket, Jack would've thought she was a visitor. She gave each boy a hug before turning to look at Jack, a warm smile on her face,

"You must be Mr. Jack Kelly! We haven't met yet; Medda Larkin, I'm the head therapist here at World." She said, extending a manicured hand. Jack hesitated before shaking it, a confident grin spreading across his face,

"Nice to meetcha Miss Medda"

Medda clapped her hands together, looking like she was about to talk before looking around the room, as if searching for something.

"Everything alright Miss Medda?" Romeo asked, absentmindedly scratching at his shoulder. Medda tapped her lips with her finger, thinking. Her eyebrows furrowed as she spun around again,

"Has anyone seen Crutchie?" She asked, worry in her voice. Jack looked around the room, slightly upset with himself for not noticing the absence of the boy with the ever present smile. The boys whispered to each other as they each scanned the room,

"Hey Blink you'se his roommate, where is he?" Specs asked a boy with light brown hair and an eyepatch over his right eye. All the boys looked at him expectantly as he just shook his head,

"He wasn't in the room during rest time. He was scheduled for an appointment with you Miss Medda" he replied, looking at Medda.

"He never showed up.." She murmured. Jack and Davey exchanged alarmed looks and Jack stood up,

"We gotta find 'im" he said determinedly. The other boys nodded in agreement, standing up with him. Medda nodded as well and the group crossed the room to the double doors to begin their search. Just as Jack was about to push the doors open, they swung open on their own accord, startling the already distraught group.

Standing in the doorway was a short but intimidating boy with unkept dark brown hair, and a red muscle tee exposing his muscled arms. The room was silent as Jack heard a sharp breath from behind him, followed by Race's whisper,

"Spot?" The boy, Spot, as Race had called him, stared back grimly and Jack suddenly realized that he had one arm supporting a familiar limp blonde figure. Jack's eyes widened,

"Crutchie?" The figure lifted his head slightly, squinting under the lighting. Jack heard multiple gasps from behind him as they took in the boy. Aside from leaning completely against Spot, there was a dark bruise forming around his left eye and a stream of blood trickling from somewhere above his hairline. Crutchie attempted to move forward, stumbling. Jack sprang forward, catching the boy and pulling Crutchie's other arm over his own shoulder. Spot glanced at him from the other side of Crutchie, nodding in thanks for the assist. The other boys quickly moved out of the way as Spot and Jack began to carefully help Crutchie move towards one of the couches, practically carrying the boy across the room.

"Crutchie what happened?!" Jack asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking as they led him to a couch. Crutchie looked at him with unfocused eyes,

"Jack? W-what happened? Where...what's going on?" He asked, sounding confused. Medda covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. Jack signaled for Spot to let go, angling himself and helping the clearly concussed Crutchie lay down. Henry turned to Spot, who had retreated toward the back of the group, his hand now intertwined with Race's,

"Spot. Welcome back. Now what happened?!" He demanded. Spot shrugged,

"I was walkin' here and I saw a grey beanie on the ground stuck under the door of one of them store rooms. I just remembered Crutchie wearin' it a lot so I opened the door to get it an' he was in there." He said, gesturing to Crutchie.

"I thought he was unconscious or something but when I tried to move 'im he kinda whimpered so I helped 'im up and brought 'im here."

"Where's his crutch?" Finch asked as soon as Spot had finished talking. Spot shrugged again,

"Dunno. Wasn't there when I found 'im. I tried askin' but he was all confused and kept muttering that his head hurt and the lights were too bright" He answered, Brooklyn accent lacing his words. Medda refocused herself, straightening her posture before pointing at a pale boy with short brown hair,

"Albert, go find one of the nurses. And quickly!" Albert nodded, running out of the room. Medda looked at the rest of the boys, opening her mouth to speak,

"I nee-" she was cute off by Davey jumping forward with a trash bin, holding it out as Crutchie lurched forward, vomiting into the bin before falling back down onto the couch cushions, moaning. Everyone looked at Davey, who set the bin next to the couch and quickly brought out a bottle of sanitizer, squeezing a generous amount onto his hands,

"He looked kind of green so I went to get the bin and then I saw him lean forward like he was about to throw up" Jack nodded,

"Good call, thanks Davey" he said, kneeling down beside Crutchie. Davey turned to Medda as Jack comforted Crutchie ,

"He's got a concussion, and a pretty bad one by the looks of it." He reported. Medda nodded, placing a hand of Jack's shoulder. She looked at Crutchie,

"How're you feelin' sugar?" She asked him gently. Crutchie smiled before wincing,

"My head hurts" he groaned. Medda smiled sadly,

"I know it does sweetie but you're gonna be okay. Can you talk to Jack a little? Focus on him instead?" Crutchie gave a small nod, eyes moving back to Jack; looking him with a slightly dazed look, almost like he didn't even see him,

"Jack?" He muttered quietly.

"Yeah?" Jack answered, lowering his voice when he saw Crutchie wince at the noise.

"'m tired." The blond boy said, his words beginning to slur together.

"Yeah I know Crutch but you gotta stay awake. You can't sleep just yet" Jack responded gently. He knew enough about concussions from his time in the group home to never let the injured person sleep until medical help arrived.

"Yeayeah I know 'm just, real tired. I wanna sleep Jack." Crutchie murmured, eyes beginning to flutter shut. Jack's brow furrowed,

"No no n- hey hey Davey! Dave! He's fallin' asleep" He called over his shoulder while lightly tapping Crutchie's shoulder. Dave quickly came up beside Jack, gently shaking Crutchie. The injured boy begrudgingly opened his eyes a little, looking blearily at the two boys next to him,

"Five more minutes Davey" he mumbled, eyes beginning to close once again. Davey shook Crutchie again, evoking more complaints from the blond boy,

"Yeah yeah sure Crutchie, you can sleep but Albert's got something to ask you but you've gotta stay awake until he gets here. Can you do that for me?" He asked. Crutchie groaned,

"'right 'lright fine... Just...tell 'im to 'urry up already" he agreed. Davey patted him on the shoulder,

"Thanks bud" He turned to Jack to say something, but was interrupted when the doors of the rec room opened once again and Albert burst into the room, followed closely by two nurses, one pushing a wheelchair. Jack breathed a sigh of relief,

"Albert". The pale boy nodded as the two nurses quickly slipped by Jack and Davey and carefully helped Crutchie into the chair. One of them handed him a pair of sunglasses and he mumbled a thank you, his words still slurred. Without another word the nurses hurried back out of the room, taking Crutchie with them. The room was silent for a moment until Race spoke up from beside Spot,

"What now" the boys looked around, unsure of what to do.

"We need to find out who did that to Crutchie" Finch said, the rest of the boys agreeing with him. One of the twins, Mush raised his hand,

"Don't yous think we should find Crutchie's crutch? It'd be real nice if he had it when he gets better. He hates wheelchairs." Davey nodded in agreement,

"That's a good idea. We should split up and look for it. Also look out for whatever or whoever could have done that to him." Specs raised his hand,

"I'll go with Romeo!" Race interjected next,

"Spot an' I'll look together!" The twins volunteered to go together, Finch and Albert decided to work together and Blink, Henry, and Elmer agreed on a group of three to search. Jack looked at Davey who nodded at him,

"Let's go"


End file.
